Voltage
by ProjectKITT
Summary: In the midst of a Decepticon threat to Diego Garcia, an unforeseen mishap at an electrical substation thrusts both Ratchet and Ironhide into a tricky situation that neither mech knows how to solve. Bayverse, takes place sometime between TF1 and ROTF. (Cancelled).
1. Chapter 1

_Hello again :)_ _ProjectKITT here with a new TF fanfic_ _, this time_ _a bit further along in the live-action continuity_ _. It may not seem like it at first, but it will be primarily told from Ratchet's point of view._ _A_ _lso,_ _most chapters probably won't be as long as this one (_ _I'm planning for about 3,000 words each_ _)_ _. My apologies to everyone who is waiting for the next chapter of 'The Catalyst'; I am working on that, but the muse for this_ _one_ _struck me first and so I had to write it ;) Okay, on with the story!_

* * *

The weather was always warm on Diego Garcia, a fact that Ironhide greatly enjoyed even if he never openly stated as much. There were a lot of things that the veteran Autobot never felt the need to say, and still more that he simply did not know how to say. Some things just could not be easily put into words.

Ironhide twirled his cannons, feeling the steadily increasing gusts from the Indian Ocean blow across his armor. He had been wandering this part of the atoll, combing the beach for seashells, coral, or any other curiosities he might find, for about two Earth hours now and the wind was just beginning to pick up. According to the forecasts, the incoming tropical storm was going to be a bad one.

By human standards, anyway. It was nothing compared to the ones on Cybertron.

Ironhide stood, looking out at the distinctly foreign ocean. It had been eons since he had even seen his own world.

But somehow, he did not miss it that much. A lot less than he ever thought he would have.

Perhaps it was because his comrades, his closest friends, and most everything else he cared about was here now. On this little round green-and-blue ball called Earth.

What a lamentably simplistic name. It was hardly even _accurate_ —more of the Earth was covered in _water_ than land.

But then again, a lot of things on this planet did not make sense. Particularly when it came to humans.

Some were so obnoxious and overbearing that Ironhide could hardly stand it, but others were nothing if not respectable and admirable. If he had known back on Cybertron that he could ever form such a close bond with members of such a primitive and organic species, he probably would not have believed it.

The black Autobot shifted his weight, letting out a long, tired sigh and distantly wondering how long it would be before this break in Decepticon activity came to an end. Or, on a longer time frame, when the war itself would be over.

It sometimes seemed as if the end was never any nearer.

Just then, a somewhat high-pitched voice drifted over to the weapons specialist, breaking him out of his melancholic thoughts. "Do you see anything out there, Ironhide?"

Ironhide turned to regard the small creature that had spoken, a human whom he had fought beside and learned to trust.

"I had been told you were given the day off, Lennox," Ironhide replied, twirling his cannons once more before gracefully stowing them away. "Why are you not with your family?"

NEST officer William Lennox walked up to him, looking out at the vast expanse of open ocean and the small but turbulent saltwater waves crashing into the shoreline. "Well, the Decepticons never take a day off," Lennox explained, "and neither do you, so I guess I get to join that party for a while."

Ironhide regarded him patiently, watching the ripple of wind against Lennox's black uniform. "I am not raising a youngling, Major."

"Believe me, I know." Lennox wiped his brow, the humidity already causing beads of sweat to appear on his tan forehead. "But Sarah and Anabelle will be coming here, so that will make things a little easier for the time being."

Ironhide nodded, replying with a casual, "I see."

The next few minutes passed without any words being exchanged, the two individuals looking out at the distant horizon and lost in their own respective thoughts, until Lennox broke the silence. "Ironhide, would you mind if I asked you a personal question?"

"You know that your human need for privacy is not as pronounced in my species, Lennox."

"Will," the soldier corrected him. "Please, call me Will."

"Very well. Will," Ironhide continued, "while we Cybertronians do also consider some things too private to be shared with acquaintances, the members of your team and mine are far beyond that. Feel free to ask what you wish, at least when you are speaking with me."

"All right." Lennox cleared his throat. "Have you ever raised a child—a youngling?" he asked, remembering the word Ironhide had used.

The black TopKick chuckled lightly at that, turning away and focusing his brilliant blue gaze on the relatively gray and gloomy sky. "No, Will, I have not."

"Have you ever... thought about it?" Lennox wondered. "I mean, is it something you've considered?"

While Lennox admittedly did not know much about Cybertronian parenthood, he did know that they had to—for lack of a better description—raise their young.

Oh, how that wording reminded the NEST soldier of lions raising their cubs in a nature documentary...

Ironhide paused, his blue optics settling on the human as he contemplated his answer. "It has been many millennia since conditions have been anywhere near favorable enough to even consider such an undertaking," Ironhide finally explained, "let alone to actually follow through with it. I would not wish to raise a youngling in the middle of a war. Of course, I am not suggesting that you are not capable of doing so."

"No, I understand," Lennox responded, his usual laid-back attitude as evident in his relaxed voice as his casual posture. "I was just wondering what your thoughts on the subject were."

Ironhide grunted noncommittally. "Does something worry you about it, or is it merely curiosity?"

Sometimes, it surprised Will at how perceptive the Autobots could be when it came to humans, especially since they were not even from the same solar system. "Well," he replied, "I guess it just... seems a little intimidating sometimes."

Ironhide cocked an optic ridge, one of the many subtle gestures his species used that was strikingly similar to that of humans. "How so?"

Lennox ran his fingers though his dark brown hair, trying to think of how to best put his feelings into words. "I don't know. It's just... odd. Like running head-first into a battle with Decepticons is not as scary as being a dad."

Ironhide only looked at him quizzically, so Lennox continued. "I remember when I took the parenting classes with Sarah, I spent the entire time thinking that I wasn't going to be able to do anything right. Even learning to change a diaper seemed like more than I was going to be able to accomplish."

The Autobot weapons specialist smirked at that, looking down at the ground and trying to suppress a chuckle lest he accidentally offend his close comrade. "I am certain that you possess the skills you need to master such a task," Ironhide stated, glancing at Lennox again, "as well as any others that will be required of you. Perhaps you feel intimidated simply because you are, as you would say, 'out of your element'?"

Lennox tilted his head. It made sense. "Yeah, that could be."

"Confidence comes with experience," Ironhide reassured him. "Of this I am certain."

"I suppose you're right," Lennox replied, sounding a bit relieved now. "Most things do seem to be that way."

Ironhide nodded once, shifting his weight just as a particularly strong gust of wind blew in from across the beach.

Lennox almost stumbled at the sudden force of it, Ironhide putting out his hand to help steady him but the smaller being managed to maintain his balance without any assistance.

"Well, big guy," Lennox said with a fatigued but sincere pat on Ironhide's leg, "I think I'll head inside before the weather gets any worse. Feel free to come with if you'd like. I know how much you hate water and you're already lucky that it hasn't started raining."

Ironhide laughed. "I don't _hate_ it, I just... prefer not to be in contact with it under most circumstances."

"Here, that's basically the same thing as hating it," Lennox explained, winking at him as he turned to leave. "Then I'll see you back at the hangar."

Lennox made it several steps away before Ironhide called after him, "Lennox, wait."

The soldier stopped and turned around, tactfully ignoring the fact that Ironhide had reverted back to using his last name. "Yes, Ironhide?"

"I have something for you." Ironhide retrieved the shells he had stored in subspace, carefully depositing them in Lennox's hand.

Lennox furrowed his brow, a bit baffled by why Ironhide would give him a handful of seashells. "What are these for?"

"I thought perhaps they could serve as playthings for your daughter," Ironhide explained. "There is quite a variety of shapes."

"She's a bit too young to play with things like these, but I'll certainly show them to her." Lennox shifted his gaze from the shells to the black Autobot. "Thank you, Ironhide."

Ironhide nodded, his usual silent acknowledgment of appreciation. "See you back at the hangar, Will."

/* * */

The reprieve in Decepticon activity did turn out to be short-lived. Ratchet always knew it would be, but nothing drove that fact home more than the alarm bells now blaring throughout the base. He scrambled to his post, like the many NEST soldiers around him.

Sideswipe skated past the Autobot medic, also heading toward the main bays. "Ratch, where's Ironhide?"

"He's just coming in now," Ratchet answered, seeing the black mech's vehicle mode pulling into the hangar. Ironhide had arrived just in time—whenever there was a Decepticon incursion, the goal was to be ready for departure in less than ten minutes.

"Ironhide!" Lennox called from across the hanger. "Takeoff in two minutes!"

Ironhide transformed and armed his cannons, his robot mode dripping wet from the downpour outside. "I'm ready."

That was the truth, Ratchet knew. Ironhide could get antsy if he had not been in any fights for a while, and while he was good at hiding it around the humans, Ratchet and Optimus could always tell.

Speaking of Optimus, Ratchet saw the red and blue mech stride in from one of the side entrances. The Autobot leader was as cool and collected as ever, taking command of the Autobot forces without even hardly raising his voice.

"Autobots," Optimus spoke clearly, his calm demeanor tempering the excitement of the younger warriors like Sideswipe and Bumblebee, "follow Lennox's lead. We will brief you in the air."

The gathered team of Autobots, consisting of Ratchet, Sideswipe, Bumblebee, and Ironhide, as well as the small number of human NEST operatives that were present, turned to Lennox for instructions.

"All right," Lennox addressed the mixed group of soldiers, "we need to move fast to avoid the storm. The C-17 is outside and ready to go, so I want those of you that are here to board now. Jolt," he continued, seeing the blue junior medic enter the hangar, "I want you to stay here in case our return is delayed."

Jolt nodded. "Understood, Major."

Lennox gestured to move out. "Okay. Let's go!"

Ratchet had already made it onto the plane, and was waiting patiently as the humans made some final preparations before takeoff, when a pair of brightly-colored Chevrolet hatchbacks suddenly skidded out onto the tarmac.

If Ratchet had not been in vehicle mode, he probably would have slapped a hand over his face. The two hellions, better known as the Twins, had a terrible penchant for getting into or causing trouble. They also followed directions about as well as a primitive Dinobot.

"Wait! You forgot about us!"

Next to Ratchet, Sergeant Robert Epps dutifully grabbed a walkie-talkie.

"Yo Twins, sorry to disappoint but you're gonna have to sit this one out. Lennox's orders."

"What? Why?" Skids transformed, the color of his bright green armor resembling that of green apple Skittles even in the low light. "We're already here!"

"Yeah!" his burnt-orange brother Mudflap chimed in, also transforming to stand near the bottom of the open cargo bay door. "He can't leave us out now!"

 _"_ _Actually,_ _I_ _can,"_ Lennox cut in over the radio frequency from somewhere else on the plane. _"We need some Autobots to stay on Diego Garcia."_

"Jolt is staying! We should get to go!"

"I think what Lennox means," Epps interjected, "is that we need some _warriors_ to stay on Diego Garcia. You know, to guard the place."

"Jolt can fight! He's done it before," Skids protested.

Mudflap crossed his arms over his chest, nodding vigorously in agreement. "Yeah. There ain't no reason why we can't go."

 _"Jolt can fight but he isn't a trained fighter,"_ Lennox pointed out, letting just enough authority slip into his voice to hopefully get through to the two mechs. _"That's why we need you two_ _to_ _stay_ _on_ _base."_

It must have worked, because the two Autobots conceded. "All right, fine. But we're going on the next one."

 _"_ _You got it,"_ Lennox transmitted. _"Now, fall back so we can take off. Unless you don't mind a little wind."_

Epps had to chuckle at that last bit. Lennox always knew what words to use to get the Twins out of the way.

"We're going, we're going." Mudflap waved his hand dismissively as he and his brother turned to leave. "Party poopers! Can't never let us in on the fun..."

The Twins' conversation was cut off as the large cargo bay door finally closed. Epps turned to Ratchet, placing a hand on the Hummer's yellow hood. "So, you think they'll ever quiet down enough to be like the rest of you?"

Ratchet snorted, obviously finding the idea to be laughable. "No, Epps, I can't say I do. They've been that way for millennia, ever since they were sparked, and I can think of no reason why they would change now."

"Yeah, you're probably right." Epps gave Ratchet a few pats on the hood. "Anyway, I better get seat-belted in before we take off. See ya when we get there."

Ratchet 'watched' Epps walk away, using his scanners to track the location and movement of everyone in this section of the plane—human and Autobot alike—even through the netting that had been placed over his vehicle mode. He was surprised that Ironhide was not fidgeting more, and that Bumblebee and Sideswipe were keeping the decibel level of their conversation down to a minimum. Optimus was merely waiting silently like he usually did.

Perhaps Ratchet was not the only one who was anxious about what was coming.

/* * */

He knew it. He _fragging_ knew it.

Ratchet knew that the minute Ironhide decided to break away from the main team, something like this was _bound_ to happen.

 _"_ _Ironhide, fall back!"_

The Autobots and NEST soldiers had been investigating a Decepticon intrusion at a coal-fired power plant, one that also just happened to have the remnants of a decommissioned nuclear reactor on-site, and Ironhide had been the first to spot a Decepticon. A white and purple car parked inconspicuously in one of the far parking lots.

But rather than notify Optimus, or anyone else on his team for that matter, Ironhide had quietly turned off the main road to confront the Decepticon himself.

Ratchet had hardly even noticed, just catching the retreating form of the black TopKick in his side mirror.

And by that time, the other Autobots had their hands full with the nearly a half dozen other Decepticons on the other side of the complex. Ratchet had been the only one not engaged in a fight.

Besides Ironhide, that is, but the medic knew that that was coming as sure as the sky above him was blue. The Hummer had spun around and gunned it back the way he came, apologizing to his human occupants and then letting them out when he got as close as he dared to where Ironhide was, which happened to be a grassy embankment about forty yards away from the electrical substation where Ironhide and the Decepticon had crashed through a chain link fence and into the field of step-up transformers and live transmission lines and gotten into a fight. The high-voltage warning signs had apparently not deterred the weapons specialist _at all_.

Ratchet could not risk getting any closer—the area was already too confined, and the addition of another mech would only make the situation more hazardous than it already was. The humans just stood beside him, also unsure of what to do but readying their weapons in case they were needed.

"Ironhide, I said _fall back_!" Ratchet tried again, still to no avail.

He was getting upset now. What Ironhide was doing was about as safe as playing hopscotch on a live minefield, and the weapons specialist was usually not so careless.

"Slag it, 'Hide! I know you can hear me!" Ratchet bellowed. "Disengage _now_!"

But it did not look like Ironhide was going to stop. The black TopKick and purple and white Decepticon were locked in a fierce melee in which neither mech was really gaining the upper hand. The Decepticon threw Ironhide against one of the step-up transformers, the Autobot's armor sparking from the impact as he hit the metal surface.

Ratchet cursed, hastily opening up a comm link to his leader and also taking aim at the rogue Decepticon. "Optimus, I need you here now before Ironhide gets himself electrocuted!"

Ratchet was unable to get a clear shot, Ironhide and the Decepticon too close together and both mechs moving with dizzying speed as each fought ruthlessly to gain control over the other.

 _"_ _Ratchet,_ _I'm on my way_ _,"_ the Prime responded. _"_ _Try to_ _maintain control over_ _the situation_ _until_ _I_ _get there_ _."_

"I'm trying," Ratchet huffed, more to himself than to Optimus. He made another attempt to reach out to Ironhide, but the black mech continued to ignore him. "Fraggin' slagger won't _listen_ to me."

 _"_ _I'll be there in two minutes."_

"Make it one..." the medic intoned, his attention drawn back to the fight. Ironhide was behaving even more rashly now, striking blindly without making any obvious attempt to plan his attacks, and he was definitely not paying attention to his surroundings anymore.

Otherwise, he would have noticed that the Decepticon had unsubspaced some kind of staff.

Ratchet had seen that kind of weapon before, it was basically just a barbed rod, but before he could even warn the weapons specialist, the Decepticon drove it into Ironhide's side.

The cry of pain was unmistakable and Ironhide quickly collapsed onto his hands and knees. Ratchet was already running toward him, barking a sharp order of 'stay back' to any humans that might be foolish enough to consider following him, the medic throwing his own personal safety to the wind as he crossed the threshold of the broken fence and downed high-voltage sign that marked the beginning of the danger zone. Ratchet primed his weapon, aiming at the Decepticon.

But before he could even fire, the Decepticon staggered back from the hot plasma of another shot. Ratchet glanced quickly at Ironhide, realizing that the weapons specialist had managed to deploy one of his cannons and get a shot off.

Ratchet also fired at the Decepticon, who must have then realized that it was about time to make a hasty retreat. The mech transformed back into his purple and white vehicle mode and took off, soon disappearing behind one of the larger buildings. Ratchet did not bother tracking him, instead sprinting over to the panting and injured mech that seemed barely able to hold himself up off the ground.

Ratchet knelt down beside his fallen comrade, carefully moving Ironhide's hand out of the way so he could assess the wound.

It was deep, and the barbed spikes had clearly done a lot of damage to Ironhide's internals. Entire bundles of wiring were ripped and shredded, having been torn out of place and mangled. Ratchet could not even imagine how much pain Ironhide had to be in, and indeed he felt the black mech trembling under his touch.

"Easy, Ironhide," Ratchet tried to soothe him, discreetly preparing an anesthetic so the weapons specialist would tolerate a field patch. "Just relax..."

Hardly had Ratchet finished uttering those words that he heard a noise above him, the unmistakable sound of a jet engine. He glanced up to see another Decepticon open fire on the spider web of high-voltage transmission lines that crisscrossed above the medic and Ironhide.

"Ironhide, brace yourself!" Ratchet yelled, wrapping his arms around the larger mech and attempting to haul him to safety. Ironhide tried to help, hearing the explosions, but then he suddenly pushed Ratchet away.

Ratchet stumbled back, the weapons specialist having used more force than Ratchet would have thought he had in him. The medic regained his footing and looked at Ironhide in confusion.

The black mech was lying on the ground looking back at him but he did not respond verbally, instead transmitting a single glyph that was the digital equivalent of _l_ _ook above you._

Even though the glyph conveyed that meaning faster than words ever could have, it was still not fast enough. Ratchet looked up just in time to see a live transmission line falling toward them, about halfway between him and Ironhide. He scrambled back just as the weapons specialist did so, but it was still too close. The treacherous line struck the ground only about twenty feet from where he stood.

Ratchet was thrown back in a sudden burst of light, but he barely felt any pain as everything went black.


	2. Chapter 2

_Well, chapter 2 is up and you'll get to find out exactly what the problem will be :) It's definitely not cannon, but I think it will be a lot of fun to do and I hope you'll enjoy it as well._

 _And as always, thank you to everyone who reviewed already ^^ Your reviews are like… I don't know, brain food, or something :D_

* * *

Optimus gunned his engine, kicking up a cloud of dust and loose gravel as he skirted around the main buildings and headed toward the other side of the power plant, all the while remembering the panicked comm he had received from his medical officer, Ratchet.

 _"Optimus, I need you here now before Ironhide gets himself electrocuted!"_

 _ _"Ratchet, I'm on my way,"__ he had responded. __"Try to maintain control over__ __the situation until I get there."__

Ratchet said he was trying, but he also said that Ironhide was not listening to him. Optimus had tried reaching out to Ironhide as well, but the weapons specialist would not answer.

That worried Optimus. It was unusual for Ironhide to completely ignore his comrades. At the very least, the black warrior would usually have some vehement response as to why he should not have to give up the fight. But this time, there was nothing of the sort.

And Optimus knew there was nothing wrong with Ironhide's comm.

 _ _"I'll be there in two minutes,"__ he said.

 _"Make it one…"_ Ratchet replied.

Then, even one minute seemed a minute too long. Optimus felt the pained signal that Ironhide sent out over the Autobot frequency. He knew that Ironhide had faltered.

And when he queried Ratchet for a status report, the medic had responded with nothing more than a clipped, _"Not now."_

"All available Autobots and NEST soldiers," Optimus called out over the comm link, getting close to the substation now, "report to Ratchet's location to provide backup _now_."

Optimus then transformed, the ground beneath his tires becoming too rough and uneven for his large vehicle mode to travel over any longer, and he sprinted toward the broken chain link fence that marked where Ironhide had run into trouble. Optimus could just see that the weapons specialist was doubled over among the various electrical transformers and junction blocks, Ratchet tending to him.

However, before the Prime could actually make it to the fence, something exploded overhead. He ducked instinctively, also powering up his weapon just as he heard the near-deafening sound of a jet engine. He fired at what he now knew to be another Decepticon, but the gray flier was gone in a matter of seconds, leaving only a white vapor trail against the pale blue sky.

Optimus put his weapons away and rushed toward his comrades, seeing the downed power line that had shorted to ground after the Seeker's attack.

The short must have tripped some kind of failsafe, but apparently not before delivering a shock in excess of 500 kilovolts to the two Cybertronians who had happened to be near it. Both were down, but Optimus skidded to a stop at Ratchet's side first since the medic was closer. He checked over the unconscious mech quickly, relieved to find that the CMO was still alive. However, his spark felt weak and it fluttered erratically under Optimus's hand.

Optimus heard Sideswipe arrive on-scene then, the silver mech quickly striding over to where Ironhide lay motionless on the ground. He dropped down beside him, immediately checking his vitals.

"Pulse is strong," Sideswipe reported. "He definitely needs a field patch though."

"Clamp off any damaged lines," Optimus ordered, "then contact Jolt. Tell him that both Ironhide and Ratchet require medevac but our priority is Ratchet."

"I'm on it."

Optimus hated having to prioritize one mech over the other, especially when both were so clearly in need of immediate medical attention, but Ironhide seemed to be slightly more stable at the moment. Ratchet on the other hand was a smaller and lighter mech, meaning that any injurious agent had the potential to do more damage to him than to Ironhide.

The Autobot leader removed his hand from Ratchet's chest. "And Sideswipe?"

His silver hands still working swiftly in Ironhide's abdomen, Sideswipe looked up. "Yeah?"

Optimus paused for a moment, as if deciding whether or not he should continue, and when he finally did, his voice was noticeably hushed.

"Do not speak of this to anyone outside our team."

/* * */

Finally back at NEST headquarters in Diego Garcia, Lennox watched anxiously as Jolt switched between running a diagnostic on the still form of Ratchet and removing another heavy armor panel from the equally still form of Ironhide. It was unnerving to the human soldier, seeing two of his closest comrades—the gruff yet caring Ratchet, and the seemingly invincible Ironhide—appear so utterly lifeless.

"How are they, Jolt?" Lennox asked, having put off the question until the young medic seemed a little less overwhelmed. When the team had first arrived back at base, everyone was frantic.

Well, not everyone. Optimus had kept his cool, like always, but even he was obviously feeling stressed by the turn of events. The flame-patterned mech had hardly said a word to anyone unless he was giving orders, and that was probably only because it was his duty. He coordinated the Autobot forces, leaving Lennox to direct the humans.

"Well, both are stable," Jolt said in response to Lennox's question, drawing the soldier's attention away from the medical berths and the two patients lying atop them. "Ironhide faired slightly better than Ratchet, even considering that he had a good amount of his abdominal wiring torn out. I suspect that he'll wake up first."

Lennox nodded, letting out a relieved breath that he had not even realized he was holding. "Good. And Ratchet?"

The blue Autobot shifted, running a silver hand over his face. "Ratchet needs advanced life support. His spark almost guttered out twice and there's no guarantee it won't do it again."

Lennox could tell that Jolt was worried—he could hear it in the Autobot's voice. "You've handled it just fine so far, Jolt. I'm sure he's in capable hands."

"I can only manage his symptoms," Jolt replied. "What he really needs is beyond my training. I'm only a Level Two medic."

"That's two levels above the rest of us," Sideswipe interjected, striding in from across the med bay. Lennox nodded a greeting in his direction.

Jolt shook his head, smirking in what the human soldier recognized as silent disagreement in the point Sideswipe was trying to make. "Ratchet is Level Four. He would know how to treat this."

"You can't think of it like that," Sideswipe tried to reassure his comrade. "Just do the best you can. It'll be enough."

At Jolt's pointed and weary look, the silver warrior continued, shrugging his shoulders. "What? How can I be so sure?"

"Something like that," Jolt admitted.

Sideswipe knew that the junior medic was not trying to be negative—he was just overwhelmed. "Look, you stabilized them, right?" he asked.

Jolt huffed lightly. "Of course."

"Then all you have to do is make sure they stay that way. Trust their own systems to handle the rest."

"You make it sound so simple," Jolt retorted, glancing at one of the monitors to check the readouts.

"That's because it is," Sideswipe replied gently.

"Then maybe you should have been a medic." Jolt turned away, walking toward the door. "I need get something in storage. Watch the monitors until I get back."

Having decided to stay out of what looked to be turning into a spat, Lennox waited until Jolt was out of earshot before he turned to Sideswipe. "I didn't know he could be like that."

Sideswipe dismissively waved a hand. "He'll be fine. This is the first time he's had to deal with anything like this." Then the silver mech smiled. "And maybe a little bit of Ratchet is rubbing off on him."

Lennox also smiled at that, remembering just how tightly-wound the Hummer could be. "If that's true, then I don't know whether I should be relieved or worried."

Sideswipe chuckled then. "Probably both. Ratchet is the best, he just has an unusual way of showing that he cares."

"Yeah, he does," Lennox agreed, glancing back at Ratchet and Ironhide. From what he had noted during similar incidents, a sharp and curt Ratchet meant that things were bad, but not that bad—it was when the medic became quiet and serious that one really needed to worry. Perhaps Jolt was the same way.

"Hey Sideswipe," Lennox spoke again, looking at the far wall for no reason in particular, "can I ask you something?"

Sideswipe looked away from the monitors, although he still kept his sensors focused on Ironhide and Ratchet. "Go ahead."

"Do you know why Optimus said not to mention the details of what happened to anyone outside of NEST?" the soldier asked. When he had written his report of the incident, he had simply stated that NBE-3 Ratchet and NBE-5 Ironhide would be on medical leave until further notice due to 'injuries incurred during Decepticon attack'. It was a very vague description compared to what he usually wrote in is reports, and Lennox could only hope that none of the higher-ups would question it.

Sideswipe shifted his weight, sighing heavily and looking rather pensive. "I believe it's because we've never encountered this before. Optimus just needs some time to sort everything out."

Lennox furrowed his brow, remembering dozens of times when one or more Autobots had returned from battle with serious injuries, even Ratchet on occasion. "What do you mean?"

"Well, as you know, Cybertronians are usually very hard to take down. The only effective weapon you humans have is high-heat ammunition."

"Right..." Lennox agreed, starting to piece together where Sideswipe was going with this.

"And up until this point, you have believed us to be basically immune to high voltages. Ratchet's little incident at the Witwicky's is a good example of that."

"Yeah." Lennox paused. "Wait, so you're saying that it actually _can_ harm you? And that even you weren't aware of that before?"

"Yes, that's basically what I'm saying," Sideswipe responded. "A comparatively low voltage, such as what you use to power your dwellings, is merely an irritant. We've never really been exposed to anything significantly higher before."

"And now you know that you don't have defenses against it?"

"Exactly. It brought down Ratchet and Ironhide in no time at all, and if that knowledge gets in the wrong hands, there could be dire consequences. We're not even sure yet exactly what effect it had on them."

Lennox nodded solemnly. "But the Decepticons might already know. There was one there when it happened."

"They might, and they might not. That 'Con didn't exactly stick around, and even if they do know, I have my doubts as to whether or not they would ever share that information. They aren't exactly immune to it either."

"Well, I guess that works in our favor." Lennox scratched his head, turning more toward Sideswipe. "So what do we do now? We just… wait?"

"Yes, we wait. And hope that Ratchet and Ironhide will come out of this okay."

Lennox glanced back at the berths, and the myriad of softly-beeping medical devices that were hooked up to the two frighteningly still Autobots. "Let's hope so."

/* * */

 _On the interstate. Just off it, actually. On that side road with the traffic lights. They were flashing yellow because it was so late._

 _That was where_ _he ended up_ _. In the middle of the intersection, of all places._

 _The police were already there, lights on, securing the scene._

 _Clear a path. Fire Department._

 _T_ _he black TopKick_ _was flipped on its side_ _,_ _the_ _leaking energon mistaken for diesel fuel._

 _Ironhide, what the frag_ _did you do_ _?_

 _We've got shattered glass over here, and a few pieces of plastic._

 _It's fine. Just clear a path._

 _Semi_ _shredded a tire_ _into my lane. I had to go off the shoulder._

 _At 65 miles an hour? You should have taken the hit._

 _T_ _ow truck_ _'_ _s on_ _the_ _way._ _Should be here in 15 minutes._

 _That would've been a little suspicious, don't you think?_

 _Not as suspicious as you lying here like a fool, waiting for the humans to find you._

 _It was possib_ _le_ _that someone saw the wreck. What else was I supposed to do?_

 _I had to report your plate number as stolen so the police would_ _n't question finding you unoccupied_ _. Did you even bother making a holo?_

 _I never needed one. This vehicle is tall enough and I_ _tint the windows if I'm alone_ _._

 _And where did it get you?_

 _I don't see you using yours._

 _Lennox and Epps are here. I don't have to._

 _Optimus coming?_

 _No, he's busy. That means I get the fun of winching you back onto your wheels._

 _Ooh, fun..._

 _It's not funny, 'Hide! How many times am I going to have to save your aft?_

In the end, Ratchet did not know whether it was the obtrusively bright glare of the overhead lights—which he could practically _feel_ , by the way—or the burning fire in his internals that finally broke him out of the dark bliss of stasis, but he did know that his side was absolutely killing him. That must have been where most of current had passed through. Coughing lightly, he tried to roll onto his other side to lessen the pain.

"Easy there, big guy," someone above him said, gently easing him onto his back again. "I have a few more scans to run before you should try getting up. You gave all of us quite a scare."

Ratchet then recognized the voice as that of Jolt, his apprentice and the Autobots' junior medic. There was also someone else speaking in the background, but Ratchet could not tell who it was.

"—notify Optimus. Ironhide's waking up."

Ratchet could not even tell if the voice was human or Autobot, but he did not really care. He had survived, Ironhide had apparently also survived, and that was all that really mattered right then. Everything else was of relatively little importance.

"Jolt," he rasped, shielding his blurry optics from the intense bath of light that seemed to cut into his consciousness like a knife, "where are we?"

"Diego Garcia," Jolt replied. "Do you remember what happened?"

Ratchet drew in a large vent of air before answering, his chest feeling unusually tight and constricting now that enough of his programs had come back online for him to detect such things. "Yeah, I got electrocuted by a fraggin' power line," he replied tersely, although his irritation was not directed at Jolt. "It didn't hurt so slaggin' much the first time."

Ratchet was not usually one to hurl obscenities like it was going out of style, especially not with Jolt around, but right then he just did not feel like filtering his speech.

However, Jolt handled the mild tirade with the practiced ease of a medical professional. "All right. Can you tell me what's bothering you the most right now?"

Ratchet shuttered his optics tightly, focusing on what he was feeling right then. "Left lateral abdominal region, perhaps another three units of painkiller depending on what you've already administered, and the anterior plating of my thoracic cavity."

The senior medic opened his optics to see a slightly baffled Jolt, although why that would be, Ratchet had no idea. Was his sensory data off?

"The painkiller I can do," Jolt said, preparing to give another dose of the neural inhibitor. "However, I didn't detect any significant damage to your thoracic cavity. Can you be more specific about what exactly it is that's bothering you?"

"It feels too heavy would be the best way I could describe it," Ratchet replied, feeling like he could just go back into recharge. "I don't really know. It isn't particularly painful."

Ratchet also noticed that his voice did not sound right for some reason, but then again all of his audio feedback seemed a bit off. Primus knew what that shock might have done to his sensors… Even his optics did not seem able to focus as clearly as they should have.

It was going to be a diagnostic nightmare, Ratchet was sure. But, he was able to correctly determine that the footsteps he heard approaching from the right were actually coming from the right. His scanners indicated that it was Arcee.

Ratchet felt Jolt carefully take hold of his arm, no doubt to inject the painkiller.

"All right. Tiny prick," Jolt said. Ratchet flinched as the needle went in, though he knew it would feel better after. Then Arcee was at his side, offering a hand in case squeezing something would lessen the discomfort.

"You've sure got a knack for getting into trouble, don't you?" Arcee jested.

Ratchet knew she was trying to distract him, and he took her hand to keep himself from shying away from the needle. "Hardly," he bit out between gritted denta. _Frag_ , what gauge needle was Jolt using, anyway?

"That's it..." Jolt murmured. "You're doing great..."

Ratchet gasped when Jolt finally withdrew the needle, Arcee putting her other hand on his shoulder.

"Easy," Jolt soothed him, putting some pressure on his arm. "The worst part is over."

Ratchet panted, surprised at how much energy that had taken from him. He was starting to feel the painkiller though, the thick compound slowly working its way through his lines, and he rested his head back against the berth. "Thank you, Jolt. That already feels a bit better."

"Good. I'm glad to hear it," Jolt replied. "I'll do another scan of your thorax. Is there anything else you'd like me to address at this time?"

"Yeah." Ratchet coughed, shifting slightly to get more comfortable. "Can you tell me how Ironhide is?"

But rather than answering, the junior medic merely stared at him, tilting his head as if confused. "I'm sorry?"

" _Ironhide_ ," Ratchet repeated, starting to wonder if he was not the only one who needed his sensors calibrated. "I heard someone say he was waking up. What is his condition?"

Jolt and Arcee shared a glance, both appearing mildly disturbed. Arcee whispered something to Jolt, who nodded in agreement.

Ratchet did not know what to think, but their behavior was starting to make him nervous. "Jolt, what's going on? Did something happen to him?"

"You don't need to worry about anything like that right now," Jolt responded. "We need to do a neurological assessment on you."

"My neural circuits are fine," Ratchet snapped, starting to get upset now. "Tell me what's wrong with Ironhide!"

"Whoa, take it easy," Arcee said, trying to calm him down. "You're going to overstress your systems..."

"Frag my systems!" Ratchet yelled, trying to get up from the berth. He heard Jolt discreetly call for backup, but he did not really care. "I want to know what happened to him!"

"Listen, just calm down—"

"Like the Pit I will!" Ratchet was done listening. If no one would give him any answers, he would find them himself...

"Let him up," Optimus's deep voice traveled across the med bay, the Autobot leader striding over to where Jolt and Arcee had been trying to keep the distressed mech on the berth. "And would someone please explain exactly what the commotion is about?"

It was more of an order than a request, and Optimus's no-nonsense tone did get Ratchet's attention. He stopped fighting, and waited for the larger mech to stop beside the berth.

"Optimus," Jolt spoke first, technically being the one who had been in charge of the situation before the Prime arrived, "I believe Ironhide is experiencing expressive aphasia. He refers to himself in the third-person and this seems to be causing confusion."

Ratchet blinked, only realizing then that the junior medic was referring to him. "Jolt, what are you talking about? I'm not Ironhide!"

All three mechs were staring at him then, only adding to the discomfort that he already felt from the combination of injuries, stress, and fatigue.

"What is your designation?" Optimus finally asked.

"It's Ratchet," he answered, his voice noticeably shaky now. "Optimus, please tell me what's going on..."

Optimus tilted his head, having zeroed-in on one key word— _Optimus_.

Ratchet referred to him as that. Ironhide, on the other hand, would almost always say _Prime_.

"Ratchet," Optimus began, sounding sure yet unsure as he reached down to pick up one of Ironhide's armor panels, "there is something you need to see..."

Ratchet accepted the panel hesitantly, not really knowing what he was supposed to be looking for... Then he saw it.

"By the AllSpark..."

The mech looking back at him in the dark reflection was not himself. It was... _Ironhide_.


	3. Chapter 3

"By the AllSpark..."

Ratchet dropped the metal panel, which clattered to the ground with a loud, echoing _bang_.

"This _cannot_ be happening..."

"Ratchet," Arcee said, a bit uncertainly, "please, just calm down for a minute—"

"Don't tell me to calm down!" Ratchet yelled, lashing out at his comrades in a very uncharacteristic display of anger. This was not happening... It could not be happening...

Ratchet's movements had been too sluggish and uncoordinated for him to actually hit anyone, but Jolt still stepped aside to reach for an anesthetic. It was clear from the monitoring devices that the black mech was working himself into a state of panic—all of his vitals had spiked, and he did not even look up as Sideswipe and Bumblebee entered the med bay, the two warriors having been drawn in by the commotion.

What they saw in the middle of the room was an awake but obviously upset Ironhide, trying frantically to get off the berth and surrounded by three of his fellow Autobots. Several alarms blared incessantly from the monitors as Optimus did his best to control the weapons specialist's wild and relentless thrashing.

Not wanting to add to an already chaotic situation, the two recent arrivals stayed back near the entrance. However, Sideswipe did open a private comm link to their leader.

 _"Optimus,_ _do you need our assistance_ _?"_

The red and blue mech could not spare them a glance, but he was well aware of their location. _"_ _Negative, Sideswipe._ _M_ _aintain_ _your position_ _s_ _."_

Optimus had a good grip on Ironhide's arms now, the black mech unable to do much more than tense against his leader's exceptionally strong grasp. However, Ironhide was quite strong as well and it was clear that Optimus was expending a lot of energy to hold him like that. If the weapons specialist had been uninjured and in full health, it probably would have been no contest.

Ironhide hissed at his inability to move before focusing his anger directly at Optimus. "Optimus, I swear to Primus you better let me go!" he bellowed, glaring at his leader with a simmering rage that would make even Megatron cringe.

Optimus avoided making optic contact and said nothing in reply, knowing that either one would likely just make the situation worse.

 _"Optimus, w_ _hat's going on?"_ Bumblebee asked through the comm link, unable to hide his concern for the mech that had in many ways been a father figure to him. Both Optimus and Ironhide had, with Ratchet being more like a grumpy and cantankerous uncle...

"Jolt, disconnect the monitors," Optimus ordered, sending a quick message to Bumblebee to let the young scout know that he would explain later.

"What?" Jolt stammered, just drawing up the last of the anesthetic into a heavy-gauge syringe. "Why?"

"Because he's going to tear loose if you don't," Arcee finished for him.

Jolt nodded once, the validity of that argument all too apparent. He flicked the syringe gently with his fingers and then stepped over to the berth, taking ahold of Ironhide's arm while Optimus held the mech as steady as possible. The weapons specialist was shaking now, his furious glare replaced by tightly-closed optics that gave no hint as to his mental or emotional state.

Sideswipe and Bumblebee continued to look on from the edge of the med bay, both silently worried about their comrade but feeling powerless to help him.

The needle went in smoothly and Jolt had almost finished injecting the anesthetic when Ironhide suddenly swung around, wrenching himself free of Optimus's grip and snapping off the needle in his arm, almost landing a blow on Arcee's shoulder in the process.

"Ratchet!" Optimus yelled, quickly regaining control of the black mech's arms.

"Give it a few minutes," Jolt said, tossing the remainder of the syringe aside and hurriedly disconnecting the monitors. "He'll calm down."

Arcee had backed off, crossing her blue arms over her blue chassis. She knew it was nothing personal, but she would rather not take a hit from a mech as large as Ironhide—particularly when said mech was obviously very upset and not thinking clearly.

Instead she looked on helplessly, much like Bumblebee and Sideswipe were doing, as Optimus tried to hold Ironhide just long enough for Jolt to disconnect the last of the monitors. The weapons specialist was trying desperately to squirm out of Optimus's grasp, and as soon as Jolt removed the last sensor from Ironhide's frame, they positioned themselves to help him get up since it was clear that the black mech was determined to do it whether or not they tried to stop him. And quite frankly, Optimus was just not able to restrain him any longer.

"Easy, Ratchet," Jolt said as Ironhide's feet touched the ground for the first time. The weapons specialist was still fighting them every step of the way, and as soon as he was off the berth, he tried to push Jolt and Optimus away.

"Get away from me! Both of you!"

Optimus signaled for Jolt to back off, knowing that Ratchet would have a harder time fighting now that he had to balance himself in an unfamiliar frame. And sure enough, as soon as the medic tried to take a step back, he lost his balance and nearly fell. Optimus caught him and although Ratchet wanted nothing more than to be left the frag alone, he could not help but cling to his leader's frame.

Ratchet was angry at himself. He was angry that he had not followed Ironhide right away, that he had waited until the situation was out of hand before he rushed in to help. And by then, it was too late...

And now, he could not even stand up on his own.

Unable to hold in his frustration and anguish any longer, Ratchet landed a heavy punch on Optimus's crimson and blue armor. Then he buried his face against his leader's chest and began to cry.

Optimus did nothing to reprimand his CMO, instead holding him closer and quietly addressing the other Autobots in the room. "Everyone out. Now."

"Optimus," Arcee spoke up, "shouldn't Jolt be watching him?"

"I will watch him," Optimus assured her, gesturing toward the exit. "Out. Now."

Bumblebee and Sideswipe shared a glance before they quietly filed out of the room, soon followed by Jolt and Arcee. Arcee cast one last worried look at her comrades before gently closing the door behind her.

Now alone in the med bay, Optimus placed a hand on the back of Ratchet's helm and cooed softly, trying to comfort him as a stream of tears ran down his face and choked sobs escaped his vocalizer. It seemed as if Jolt's anesthetic was starting to take effect, the black mech no longer clinging hard enough to almost dent the armor on Optimus's forearms. However, he still had enough fight left in him to land one more heavy punch on the Prime's abdominal plating.

But just like before, Optimus did not react to it.

"Ratchet," the Autobot leader said softly, "talk to me."

Ratchet gripped tighter, managing to calm himself down enough to speak. "He's gone. 'Hide's gone. And it's because of my own stupid decision!"

"Ratchet, look at me," Optimus commanded, waiting until the medic lifted his tear-filled optics before continuing. "You did everything right, and Ironhide is not gone."

"Then where is he?" Ratchet spat, his voice wavering. "Because he's not here! This is his frame and he's not in it! I am!"

Ratchet broke down a little after that last observation, almost as if blaming himself for Ironhide's absence.

Optimus continued to console him, stroking the black mech lightly on the back of the shoulders. "That is not your fault, and Ironhide still needs you."

A long moment passed and the medic did calm down slightly, but whether it was from Optimus's own words or the sedative, the Prime did not know. He watched Ratchet carefully as the mech pushed away from him just enough to stand fully, still holding onto his leader's arms for support.

"Optimus," Ratchet whimpered, his voice still shaky, "did you... did you really mean that... that Ironhide is still with us?"

Optimus nodded. "Yes, I meant it. I believe now that he must be occupying your frame."

"M-my frame?" Ratchet glanced around the room, seeing no occupied berths. "Where is he? I need to... I need to see him... Stabilize him... Make sure he's okay..."

"Shh..." Optimus pulled Ratchet closer, the black mech looking as if he might break down again. "In due time, old friend. You need not worry about that right now."

Ratchet did not seem convinced, though he did lean into his leader's comforting presence. "But what if... what if he needs me... Needs... help..."

"He does need you, but not right at this moment. Jolt is keeping him stable." Optimus adjusted his grip and stepped back slightly, the CMO losing a lot of strength now. "You need to rest."

Ratchet looked as if he was going to object, but then the black mech merely nodded, apparently realizing that Optimus was right. Either that, or the medic knew better than to try to pull rank when he himself was injured.

"Come on," Optimus said as he guided Ratchet toward the berth. "Let's get you on the berth."

Ratchet shifted his weight and took a tentative step back, allowing Optimus to help him walk the several steps back to the isolated medical berth. The TopKick managed to situate himself near it before collapsing onto the flat metal surface rather unceremoniously.

"Slaggin' warrior frame," he cursed, wiping the tears from his face. "Too much weight in the front."

Optimus made sure that Ratchet was all right, then he reached into one of the drawers under a nearby counter and retrieved a clean washcloth, stepping forward and using it to gently blot the medic's face.

"Optimus, please," the black Autobot pleaded, trying feebly to push the larger mech's hand away. "I'm not a youngling."

Optimus smiled at him. "Then I will give you this," he replied, offering the cloth to his friend. "Jolt will be in to see you in a few minutes."

Ratchet accepted the cloth and with one last comforting squeeze on the medic's shoulder, Optimus turned to begin reconnecting the myriad of medical devices and monitors that had been sitting idle over the past half hour or so.

"Optimus, wait," Ratchet called from behind him, waiting until Optimus turned around before he continued. "Can I ask you something?"

The red and blue Prime nodded. "Of course."

Ratchet shifted, grasping the edge of the berth for support. His voice sounded rough from disuse as he asked, "Why isn't Ironhide here?"

Optimus paused before answering. "We moved him to an isolated bay before you woke up. We did not want his presence to cause any additional stress."

Ratchet nodded, resting his head against the berth and letting out a soft, gentle sigh. He would probably be in recharge in a few minutes, Optimus guessed. The Prime finished up reconnecting the monitors, checking for any blatant problems, and then he turned to Ratchet. The black mech already had his optics closed, his blunt fingers curled around the cloth as if protecting it. It looked like something Ironhide would do, that much was certain—Ironhide was practically bred to be a guardian.

However, this was not Ironhide.

"Rest well, Ratchet," the Autobot leader said, turning to leave when Ratchet did not respond to his voice or the light touch on his shoulder. The medic could use a few more minutes of rest before Jolt came in, and Optimus walked quietly to avoid disturbing him.

At the sound of the door clicking shut, Ratchet opened his optics. Then he glanced at the cloth still in his hand, clutching the soft material as a tear rolled down his face.

/* * */

Several hours later, when Jolt had finally OK'd it for Ratchet to have visitors, Arcee made her way through the Autobots' semi-private hangar and to the main med bay, the one that Ratchet would normally be overseeing after a mess like this.

Not that Jolt was not doing fine, because he was. It was just that Ratchet was _always_ there, and such a harsh reminder that the CMO was indeed mortal had been a bit disconcerting.

It was just as disconcerting as Ironhide's current state of affairs. The weapons specialist continued to be unresponsive and his condition just kept fluctuating between serious and critical, and none of his fellow Autobots could be sure from one minute to the next whether he was going to be able to pull through it or not...

They needed Ratchet.

 _Ironhide_ needed Ratchet.

And it was still hard for Arcee to believe that Ratchet was now in Ironhide's frame, and vice versa. How that was even possible, Arcee had no idea. She had certainly never heard of such a thing before and she probably would not have believed it even if she had.

Finally arriving at the entrance to the med bay, Arcee knocked softly before opening the door. She stepped inside and closed it behind her, then making her way to the berth where Ratchet was now lying calmly. The anesthetic would have worn off by now, but the Autobot medic was obviously over his initial shock.

Arcee walked up to the black mech, her sensors telling her that Ratchet was awake and that he was aware of her presence. "Hey, Ratch," she said when she was close enough for him to hear her softened voice. "How are you doing?"

Ratchet did not even shift his gaze from the featureless ceiling. "Stellar," he replied flatly, going into no additional detail.

Just like the ill-fated strike of a few hours ago, Arcee knew it was not personal. Ratchet had an unusual way of dealing with stress and although it often involved taking out his frustrations—whether rightfully or wrongfully—on anyone who happened to be near him, that was what worked for the medic and no one was about to try changing it.

"You know," Arcee continued, her voice gentle and sympathetic, "I can't even imagine what you're going through, but I can say that we're all here for you and we care about what you're dealing with."

Ratchet did not react outwardly, but Arcee knew that he had heard her and she knew that the offer of support was something that he needed, even if he did not show it. She watched as the large form that once was Ironhide continued to lie almost completely still on the berth, the black Autobot drawing in a large vent of air before finally swiveling his optics to look at Arcee.

"Arcee," he said, sounding unusually defeated, "I appreciate that, but this isn't something I want to talk about right now."

Arcee nodded. "Fair enough. Is there anything you would like to talk about?"

Ratchet appeared to consider her words, his expression of deep thought uncannily like Ironhide's—which should not have been a big surprise, considering—but finally he shook his head. "No."

Arcee put a hand on his shoulder. "All right. But if you change your mind, feel free to let any of us know."

Ratchet did not reply and Arcee turned to leave, presuming that the medic wanted to be left alone but did not wish to be rude by saying as much. However, she had only taken a few steps before Ratchet's shaky voice stopped her.

"Arcee?"

The blue cyclebot turned around. "Yeah?"

The CMO seemed at a loss for words then, and a long moment passed before he continued with a quiet, "I'm sorry."

Arcee blinked. "Sorry for what?"

"For almost hitting you. I never meant to... I would never..." Ratchet paused, as if gathering his thoughts. "It just didn't seem real."

Arcee offered him a smile. "Don't worry about it. I know you didn't mean any harm."

Ratchet nodded once, glancing away and settling his gaze on the all-too familiar medical devices that were currently monitoring everything vital and non-vital about the medic. It must have felt strange, Arcee thought, to be on the receiving end of what he himself had spent the majority of his life perfecting. And while it was not the first time Ratchet had been injured or spent time in the med bay as a patient, it was the first time that he had required such intensive monitoring and an extended stay. Being restricted to the berth was also something that the CMO was not used to.

"Jolt says you should be able to walk around soon," Arcee reminded him, hoping to give the medic something to look forward to. Ratchet may not have always been a particularly positive mech, but he was not usually particularly negative either and it pained Arcee to see him so deeply distressed.

"So he does," Ratchet replied noncommittally, his gaze still fixed on the readouts even though it was obvious that his thoughts were elsewhere.

Stroking the black armor of the medic's arm reassuringly, Arcee could only wonder what was really on his mind.

* * *

 _Sorry for the delay; I've recently decided to trade school for a second job and it's been taking some time to get everything all sorted out. But rest assured that I am still working on the fanfics as well ;)_

 _Thank you everyone for your feedback! :D_


	4. Chapter 4

_Woo, updated two stories in the same week! I hope you enjoy :D_

* * *

Lying alone on the berth in the otherwise empty med bay just before morning, all Ratchet could think about was how fragging uncomfortable it was.

He had not recharged at all that night. Well, barely—about two cycles a little earlier, and another half cycle a bit later on. It was a far cry from the four to six _uninterrupted_ cycles of recharge that his systems required to perform optimally, and the fact that he had been lacking that for several Earth days in a row now probably explained why he felt the way he did. Nothing seemed to be functioning properly and he just had this overall feeling of... of...

Of what, exactly?

Primus knew. Ratchet did not even have a suitable word or phrase to describe it.

The medic shifted slightly, trying to relieve some of the pressure on his lower back and hip area. The flat metal surface of the berth was always rigid and unforgiving, but right now it seemed particularly inclined to create pressure points and uncomfortable spots that Ratchet just could not seem to avoid. And since there were so many monitors and sensors hooked up to him, he could not even roll onto his side like he wanted to.

The Autobot CMO reached up to run his hand down his face, a slight draft of cold air brushing across his frame.

Ironhide's frame, he should say.

Ratchet was not even sure if his own frame was still viable. Why else would it not be here, in the primary med bay?

And although the medic was very hard-pressed to believe that any of his comrades, especially Optimus, would lie to him about something that important, his processor would not stop telling him that that was the only logical conclusion.

Oh, and it kept telling him all kinds of other things, too. Conversations from the previous day just kept repeating and repeating and repeating, and minute details that had no significance whatsoever somehow ended up stuck in the forefront of his thoughts. He could not focus on anything, yet he could not clear his mind either.

Ratchet almost wished that he had a switch to just turn everything off.

 _Frag..._ _I_ f he could just reach the medications cabinet, he could simply force induced stasis on himself...

But Jolt would not like that, and the junior medic was going to be examining him again this morning.

Ratchet let out a tired sigh. How much longer was it going to be, anyway?

An hour? Two hours?

Did it even fragging matter?

Not really. It was still dark, so that meant that it would be at least a little while before anyone came.

Ratchet forced himself to relax, leaning back against the berth and trying to stop tensing up like he was in the middle of a fight. Perhaps if he could do that, he might be able to get at least a little bit of rest before the day began in earnest.

But the only thing the medic saw when he closed his optics was himself, as if looking on from the view of someone else. He could see himself standing in the middle of that grassy field and merely watching Ironhide as the black mech fought with every ounce of his being.

 _You did exactly what you were supposed to do. What you were trained to do._

 _And what exactly was I trained to do? Let a comrade fend for himself when he clearly needed help?_

 _That's not what I meant, Ratchet._

 _Then why don't you enlighten me?_

 _You and I both know that you have a personal responsibility to look out for your own safety first. Ironhide had that exact same duty._

 _Yes, and he failed to do so._

 _He did, but you can't blame yourself that he jumped head-first into a situation that he shouldn't have, and you know that endangering yourself as well would have only made the situation worse._

Ratchet had paused at that.

 _I would never be able to live with myself knowing that I did not even try to to save him. Knowing that he knew that I did not even try._

 _Yes, but he also knows how important you are to us. How important what you do is to us._

 _That doesn't mean my life should be any more valuable. Optimus does not think that way of himself, so why should I?_

 _I'm not saying you should, but the truth of the matter is that Ironhide's much better equipped to look out for himself. He's built like a tank and nothing on Cybertron ever brought him down for long._

 _So what are you saying, Jazz? That you wouldn't have helped him?_

 _Of course not. We all would have. But if we don't have this conversation, it won't stay in perspective..._

Just then the door to the med bay slid open, startling Ratchet even though he had heard it a thousand times before. After taking a moment to regain his bearings, he glanced up to see Jolt walking over to him. The younger medic looked tired, and the room looked a lot brighter than Ratchet remembered.

Was it morning already? Frag... It did not feel like it.

And Ratchet did not really feel like dealing with Jolt right then. He did not really feel like dealing with anyone right then.

Well, anyone except—

"Good morning, Ratchet," Jolt spoke up as he glanced at the CMO's monitors. Nothing must have been outside of the expected range because the blue medic did not pause to make note of anything, instead checking to make sure that the energon drip under Ratchet's armor was still securely in place.

Ratchet also did not want to be touched but he knew that Jolt was only there to help, and so he quietly kept his discomfort to himself. "Jolt," he replied flatly, his optics focused on nothing in particular.

Jolt studied his mentor for a moment before asking, "How are you feeling?"

Ratchet pursed his lip plates. "Fine."

"You know, you're doing the same thing Ironhide does," Jolt said. "You're saying you're fine when I'm certain that you aren't feeling that well."

Ratchet did not meet his optics, instead just staring at the ceiling. "Then why do you even ask?"

"Because," Jolt responded, "I would hope that as a fellow medic, you would tell me the truth so I can do what's best to help you."

Ratchet glanced at him then, though he looked away after just a few seconds. "The truth is subjective."

/* * */

Jolt was not exactly sure what Ratchet meant by that, but he did know that the senior medic had been having far too much time to think lately. And whenever Ratchet started thinking too much, he tended to get withdrawn and melancholic in a way that always made Jolt wonder what was going on inside the CMO's processor.

"Come on," Jolt encouraged the other mech to sit up, to get his mind off things. "I'm going to let you walk around the room today."

But Ratchet merely shrugged it off, appearing as if he could not be any less interested in the idea. "There's nowhere to go."

"That's not the idea and you know it," Jolt retorted, lately having had to get a little sharp with his mentor. Ratchet just was not being cooperative, and although the CMO was well-known for his gruff attitude and stubbornness, it usually did not extend beyond the bounds of logic. "You need to move around. Ironhide's joints are locked up enough as it is."

Ratchet glared at his protégé weakly, letting out a derisive snort and rolling his optics, but then he relented. "Fine."

"You're not to used to this, are you?" Jolt asked as he silenced the monitors so Ratchet could get up.

Ratchet tiredly pushed his frame up to a sitting position, several of the joints creaking loudly in protest as he ran a hand over his face. "Used to what?"

"To being the patient. To having someone else tell you what to do."

Ratchet glanced down at his lap, and the frame that was not his. "Can't say I am."

"Well, I just want you to know that you don't have to fight me. I'm only here to help and to do what's best for you."

Ratchet truly met his apprentice's gaze then, a look of sincere regret on the CMO's faceplates. "Jolt, I'm... I'm sorry," he replied shakily, his entire demeanor noticeably less rigid now. "I never intended to suggest anything else. I just... I don't fraggin' _know_ what to do. About _any_ of this."

"None of us always know what to do," Jolt reassured him. "We just do the best we can with what we have and what we do know. You need to take it one step at a time or you'll just get overwhelmed worrying about all the ifs and what-ifs and the hundreds of ways that any given scenario could play out. It's more than anyone can handle."

Ratchet drew in a deep vent of air, processing what Jolt had said. "Fair enough," he replied, his voice unusually submissive. "What is it I should be worrying about?"

"You need to focus on your recovery," Jolt informed him. "You're stressing yourself out and it isn't helping you in any way. You're making your systems work harder than they should and that will only keep you here longer."

"'Hide's systems," Ratchet corrected the younger medic. "They're his, not mine."

"All the more reason to go easy on them," Jolt said, taking advantage of the perfect opportunity to remind his mentor of what that really meant. "He might not take it easy on his systems, but I'm sure he would appreciate it if you did."

Ratchet clammed up then, glancing away from Jolt. "He isn't here to appreciate anything," the larger mech said, almost cynically. "He may never even use these systems again."

Jolt internally cringed at that, Ratchet over the past few orns seeming to take anything that was said and twisting it around toward the negative. "Well, you don't know that so let's not assume it."

Ratchet said nothing and Jolt knew that the older medic was done talking, it was just unfortunate that it had happened this early in the day. But at least the CMO was sitting up, and for a fleeting second the sight of that black frame being in any position other than lying on a berth was enough to restore some hope that Ironhide would once again exist amongst them.

But for the time being, Jolt needed to remember that this was Ratchet.

"Ratchet, if you still feel like walking around, I can help you up."

Ratchet was of course not an invalid—the strength he had displayed earlier during his short bout of anger had certainly disproved that—but he was not familiar with Ironhide's frame, and it had already become apparent that there would be at least some learning curve associated with it.

However, Ratchet merely let out a vent of air. "I'd like to be left alone now if that would be all right," the CMO asked respectfully if flatly, his gaze focused on the wall now.

"That would be fine," Jolt allowed. "I trust that you will be able to hook yourself back up to the monitors when you are ready to lie down?"

Jolt was really not worried that Ratchet needed to have his systems monitored so closely anymore, at least not all the time. His vitals had been stable for several orns now and he had not shown any signs of significant distress other than mental stress, and that was something that might be better cured by giving him a bit more freedom.

Ratchet did not reply verbally but he nodded, his gaze still fixed on some imperceptible feature of the wall although it was clear that he was not truly focused on it. Jolt stepped aside, reaching into yet another drawer and taking out a small energon cube in case Ratchet wanted to begin weaning himself off the drip. His tanks had been empty for quite some time now but a small amount of energon would not hurt him, and the extra would only be beneficial even if he did decide to stay on the drip.

Jolt set the cube next to him. "Here, in case you want it."

Ratchet did glance at the cube, though he made no move to pick it up. "Thank you, Jolt. I may use it later."

Jolt nodded. "That's good enough for me. If you do, just try to make note of it and how much. I'm not sure whose medical record it will go in yet, but either way it should be as accurate as possible."

Ratchet nodded again. "Understood," he said, in a mannerism that was so much like Ironhide. Or perhaps it was just because Ironhide had more often displayed such an act of submission, with Ratchet able to pull medical rank in most disputes.

"All right." Jolt smiled at him. "Comm me if you need anything."

After another short acknowledgement from Ratchet and a genuine feeling that the CMO would be okay, Jolt turned and headed toward the door. Ratchet needed some privacy, and Jolt needed to check on another patient.

/* * */

When the blue Chevy Volt left the med bay, he had suspected that some of the other Autobots might be waiting for him. What he had not been expecting to see was a quartet consisting of Jazz, Bumblebee, and the two Terror Twins.

"Jolt, how is he?" Jazz asked, clearly speaking for everyone there.

Jolt strode over to the assembled group, all of them watching him with eager anticipation. He spoke quietly, even if there was no chance of Ratchet overhearing him. "Well, physically he's doing fine, but mentally I just don't know. He just doesn't seem to be bouncing back from it like I would expect him to."

"Ya tried askin' him what's botherin' him?" Mudflap spoke up, a genuine suggestion in stark contrast to the mech's usual whitty sarcasm.

 _"_ _It would be no use,"_ Bumblebee communicated through the comm link. _"He's not the type to talk about his problems like that."_

"Bumblebee's right," Jolt directed at Mudflap, though he continued to speak to everyone. "And besides, I did try asking him. He did not wish to talk about it."

"I bet he thinks we're lyin' to him," Skids added next, leaning against the wall with his slightly smaller but much more brightly colored frame. "Think about it. We let him see any of us, but 'Hide's still in iso'. How does he know the mech even made it?"

"Ironhide's condition is still highly volatile," Jolt reminded him. "I would hate for that to be another source of stress for Ratchet."

"But are you sure that not seeing him isn't causing Ratchet more stress?" Jazz wondered, crossing his arms over his chassis in a relaxed pose. "I mean, are you sure that's the best way to handle it?"

Jolt dropped his shoulders slightly, letting out a sigh. "Honestly, I've been starting to rethink that. But I need to get Ironhide more stable, and I need to do something to help Ratchet get some rest. He has not been recharging well for the last few days."

Jazz nodded, not seeming too surprised by that. "You gonna medicate him?"

"I will tonight, yes," Jolt replied. "We'll see how he does after that. If it seems to help, I may let him see Ironhide."


	5. Story Cancellation Notice

_The 2nd of 2 cancellation notices for my stories, this one being the same reason as the last - too many projects and not enough time to dedicate to them all. This one I am quite a bit disappointed at canceling because I believe there is a lot of opportunity for character exploration here, but I will try to work some of it into 'Unbreakable' (minus the 'alternate' forms of our two main characters, of course). I do love character exploration and this was a perfect way to do it, but we'll just have to see what happens back on Cybertron ;)_

 _Wishing you all the best!_

 _-ProjectKITT_


End file.
